


Seattle, 1968

by ThePaintedScorpionDoll



Category: BioShock, BioShock 2
Genre: Gen, There's Something in the Sea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 05:41:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3316271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePaintedScorpionDoll/pseuds/ThePaintedScorpionDoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can leave your past in the sea like a raft set adrift, but the currents will bring it back to shore in due time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seattle, 1968

Eight years.

Eight years of joy and peace, of scraped knees and bedtime stories, birthday parties and Christmas mornings. Eight years of schooling, PTA meetings, and carpooling. Eight years of just plain, boring normalcy.

Eight years of living on the surface again after so many years spent living the impossible life beneath the ocean waves, and the only thing Brigid Tenenbaum can really think of is how surprised she is that it hasn’t been less than that. Eight years, and the only thing that strikes her as odd is how surprised she _isn’t_ that this day has come. She knew, didn’t she? Somewhere, in the deepest pit of her stomach, she has always known that this would happen. Isn’t that why she did her best to recreate all the notes she had to leave behind? Why else did she buy replacements for the books she collected in her undersea library? And why else did she find herself collecting first the newspaper clippings, then buying a map?

She tried, though. Hard. Very hard. For her own well-being, for the happy life she managed to find herself living as a schoolteacher, she tried to ignore the signs, glaring though they were. (She has always been good at willfully denying the world around her, hasn’t she? Isn’t that why her peers likened her to a flashlight?) But the abductions kept happening, spreading to different countries like a disease. The reports of mysterious lights in the water kept appearing, the stories different but enough of the details the same to keep doubt at bay. By the time letter for her arrived in the mail--

“Tenny?”

Jack stands just outside the doorway to her bedroom, waiting for permission to enter like he always does. (Sometimes, Tenenbaum catches herself wondering if this respect of private space is something they programmed into him.) He has grown a lot in eight years, hasn’t he? Who would ever have guessed that he would live to see his thirties, let alone become a father with a successful bookstore? And yet, right now, all the former scientist sees is the inquisitive little boy who always asked about her work, who was always so eager to help with her research. (Sometimes, she catches herself wondering if Jack remembers that he first gave her that nickname in his shortened childhood.) He would have made a good scientist, under other circumstances. Better that he finds his success in books instead.

“Tenny,” Jack says again, concern in his voice this time, “what’s all this?”

_All this_ , referring to the suitcase sitting open and half-packed on the neatly-made bed that is the centerpiece of her bedroom. Tenenbaum presently stands in her open closet, a brown cardigan clutched in her hands. (She has not worn it for two winters. The hem is tattered, there are holes in the left sleeve, and the right sleeve is barely hanging on by a few threads.) She draws in a small breath, expels it as a sigh, and crosses the room. The cardigan goes in the suitcase.

This is not how she wanted this part to go. This is not the way she wanted to tell him.

Truth be told, she did not want to have to tell him at all.

“Come inside. I have much to explain, and I fear not very much time,” she says.

He enters, shutting the door behind him without needing to be asked. The concern on his face is more pronounced. Questions are on his lips, she knows it, but Tenenbaum has no idea how many of them she can actually answer, considering just how many of those very answers still elude her. So, instead of letting him ask, she starts with a question of her own.

“Do you remember the letter I received in the mail last week?”

“I… Y-yeah, I do.” Jack nods, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You looked really bothered by it.”

“I was.”

Wringing her hands, Tenenbaum rounds the bed to where her desk sits at the window. Such a beautiful view of the city it has always provided! Even now, the early November streets are a lovely sight in the light of the setting sun. There are days where she thinks it strange that they chose to settle in a place known for its heavy rains, but Seattle has been as much a haven as it has been an opportunity to truly start over. And the Little Ones--the girls they rescued and brought with them… They thrive. They grow. They seem to remember so little of their time below. Tenenbaum considers this a blessing.

(Perhaps, in time, they might come to remember little of her, too. That would also be a blessing.)

“The letter was from a man named Mark Meltzer.” She retrieves the letter from within a drawer and passes it to Jack. “I knew nothing of him before this letter, and yet...what he had to tell me, I already knew.”

Jack’s eyes narrow as he skims the page. “He says his daughter was abducted.”

“And she was not the only one.”

Turning back to her desk, Tenenbaum goes through her paperwork to pull more items. Photographs, newspaper articles, letters… She lays them out for Jack to see, and when he looks at her with confusion, the former scientist does her best to explain. Someone is stealing little girls from all over the world. No one knows where they have gone. There are things that tie the disappearances together, however. A mysterious red light seen glowing in the water. The age and build of all the little girls.

“And they were all kidnapped near the ocean.” Jack stands with her at the desk now, staring down at the map she has covered in her own symbols and meticulous handwriting. “You really think--?”

“If it was just one girl, two--or if it was just in one place, _maybe_ I could stay it was my paranoia, but this…” She shakes her head. The guilt and anger that have been welling up inside since she began to fully pay attention begins to surface. “Someone is using my work to breed a new army of Gatherers. I feel it in my depths.”

A look of alarm crosses his features. “You don’t suppose the girls--?”

“No. They are too old.”

He nods slowly. The alarm in his face passes, but he still looks troubled. His eyes go back to the map, to the triangle she has drawn in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. For a moment, the former scientist is reminded of those days when she would test his young mind with puzzles. He has figured it out, hasn’t he?

Of course, he has.

“If that’s where they’re being taken,” Tenenbaum tells him softly, “then that is where I need to be.”

“But how is that even--? I mean, it’s not like you can just--” Jack lets out a short breath. “-- _book_ a red-eye flight, or--”

“How I get there is not important,” she answers as she resumes packing. More socks, another pair of shoes, a skirt… She takes her oldest clothes, the ones she isn’t afraid to ruin. As long as she focuses on that, she does not have to tell him that she has already arranged her itinerary. “I will find a way, and when I get there, I will undo what’s been resumed. I will save these new Little Ones before it’s too late. I will end this nightmare.”

“But Tenny--”

“I’ve made my decision!”

Her voice is firm, sharp; the way it is when she has to scold one of the girls. Jack actually flinches at her tone, and Tenenbaum wonders if it’s because he remembers the few times she had to scold _him_ \--even though she _knows_ there could be no way for him to recall those days. She draws in a breath. Tries again, but gentler this time.

“I have to go. I cannot let this go on while I live. I cannot let those girls suffer. How can I, when they suffer because of what _I_ did? How can I--l-look these little ones in the eyes, knowing that there are still...that there are others--l-like them? I--”

Her voice catches.

“I can’t--”

Her vision blurs. She hides the first tears behind the white blouse currently in her hand.

“I _can’t..._ ”

“Tenny…” Jack goes to her, hugs her and strokes her hair, even as she curses at herself inwardly for letting her tears get the best of her. “Oh, Tenny. This isn’t your fault. You can’t keep blaming yourself for what you did in the past--”

“But the past-- It is not content to stay past.” Tenenbaum sniffles. She looks up at him, forces herself to do it. “You cannot understand because you have forgiven me for what I had a hand in doing to you, and because you only saw me as someone with the best intentions, but I know-- _I know_ what my blame is. And I cannot stand by, wash my hands and say, ‘Well. I did what I could, yes?’ It will not do. I have to go.”

She pulls herself free and goes back to her paperwork. What will she need most? Her map, yes. Her passport, perhaps? No. She will certainly need money. She will need at least some of her notes--and here, she briefly wonders if she might be able to revisit her apartment. Maybe, if they are still there, she could collect some of the books she was unable to replace.

“I’m going with you.”

Tenenbaum freezes. Her heart goes still. Of all the things he could have said…!

“No.” And she makes her voice firm, but not sharp. “This you cannot do.”

“Rapture was dangerous when we left--hell, it was a miracle we even got out the first time--and you have no idea what it’s like now. You don’t know who could be controlling whatever’s kidnapping these little girls. You don’t know what kind of state Rapture is in--I mean--” Jack lets out a huff. “I mean, _God_ , for all you know--”

“Jack, please--”

“For all you know, you could be walking into a goddamn suicide mission, Brigid!” And his voice is high; it is taut with worry. It startles her that he uses her first name. “You could-- This could be-- A-and you want to _go_ \--you want to just... _walk in_ like you expect they’ll just let you?”

“I expect the danger,” she says quietly.

“But you don’t expect to come back.” Behind her, Jack slumps back down on the bed. “That’s really what it is, isn’t it?”

Silence. Sitting there with his hands in his lap, troubled gaze aimed at the floor; he looks so much like a little boy. It makes her wish she could lie to him as easily as Fontaine had. But how could she? How can she possibly refute the accusation, tell Jack that she fully intends to return, when it isn’t true? Maybe there was a time when he could not discern lies from truth as easily, but that time is far in the past. It wouldn’t be fair, trying to lie to him now.

It doesn’t make the hurt in his face any easier to bear, but Brigid Tenenbaum has long been used to bearing the weight of pain that would have crushed others. She dries the first of his own tears as she sits down next to him, shushing him gently in Russian. When he takes her hand between his, she holds on just as tightly.

“If I must die to stop this, then I will pay that debt. And yes, it would be easier if you came--it was easier the first time, to have your help--but you aren’t alone this time. You have your little ones to think of, even if they are not so little anymore. They need you, and just as I can’t bear knowing those girls were stolen from their families, I will not deprive these girls of their father. And you know I’m right, don’t you?”

Jack nods slowly. There are more tears, and she dries those, too. “What am I even gonna tell them? They’re going to ask, you know that. They love you. They’ll notice when you… If you don’t come back.”

“Tell them the truth, if you believe it is fair,” Tenenbaum answers. “You have made me so proud these last few years. Do you know that? Everything you have accomplished has been beyond what I could have imagined.

“And I am glad,” she adds gently, “to have been allowed the small joy of getting to witness this unfold. It is undeserved, but it is precious.”

Jack smiles at her, but it wavers. “Just--u-uhm...j-just promise me that you’ll come back, okay? Promise me that, Tenny. No matter what happens down there, you have got to come home.”

She can’t make that promise. He knows that she can’t. Such things are the result of fear and desperation!

But sometimes, acknowledging the truth is not what’s fair.

“I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a doozy of notes, which is why I put them here instead of at the top. Anyway:
> 
> 1\. This takes place towards the tail end of ["There’s Something in the Sea"](http://bioshock.wikia.com/wiki/There's_Something_in_the_Sea), the ARG that led up to the release of BioShock 2. I couldn’t possibly have done it without the amazingly well-documented resource that is [the BioShock Wikia](http://bioshock.wikia.com) and [its detailed Rapture Timeline](http://bioshock.wikia.com/wiki/Rapture_Timeline), which helped me gain a better sense of when this could have taken place. (Meltzer never wrote to Tenenbaum in the actual game, though.) The well-maintained Wikia is the friend of the fanfiction writer!
> 
> 2\. I had some trouble trying to determine how old Jack would be in 1968 because there’s no definitive physical age given for Jack in any of the materials. (Literally speaking, he’s four by the time the game starts, but he looks more like he’s in his early twenties. I’ve seen people say he’s 19, but I think that comes from when Dr. Scuhong is talking about how he has the muscle tone of a 19-year-old and not his actual age, especially since he was sent to the surface for a couple years before. Such is the problem with genetically-altered humans!) I just went with guessing he’d either be near or in his thirties by 1968.


End file.
